


Three People With Their Shoes Off

by zade



Series: kinktober 2017 (oh god why) [3]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Aftercare, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Asphyxiation, Bondage, Breathplay, Butt Plugs, Chastity Device, Clarke takes medical precautions, Cock Cages, Corsetry, Cuckolding, Frottage, Gags, Gas Masks, Humiliation, I'm Sorry, Immobility, Kink Negotiation, Kinktober 2017, Lidocaine, Lingerie, Marijuana, Medical Kink, More Bondage, Multi, Mummification, Non-Sexual Bondage, Oral Sex, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Orgasm Denial, Pegging, Pet Play, Polyamory, Polyfidelity, Rimming, Safe Sane and Consensual, Sensation Play, Sensory Deprivation, Situational Humiliation, Smoking, Smoking Kink, Stockings, Verbal Humiliation, and sex, asslock, bondage and gags and humilation oh my, chapter five has:, chapter four has:, chapter one has:, chapter seven has:, chapter six has:, chapter three has:, chapter two has:, fiberglass cast bondage, gags and blindfolds, honestly fuck me, just like a lot of humilation, kitten play, like sort of, locking high heels, long scene, more breathplay, more feminization, more orgasm delay/denial, more pegging, sort of!, tadah, those things are so cool omg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-05
Updated: 2017-11-01
Packaged: 2019-01-09 12:22:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12276375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zade/pseuds/zade
Summary: This is the place where my The 100 kinktober fics live! All of these take place in a modern au where Clarke, Bellamy, and Murphy have an established relationship, where they sometimes also have very consensual kinky fun(this could also take place in my Modern Love series, but that's up to you!)





	1. Day Five: Humiliation and Cuckolding

**Author's Note:**

> so um I still haven't caught up with the 100 but anyways have some porn!
> 
> this chapter has: humiliation, cuckolding, bondage, butt plugs, gags, oral sex, pegging (and Murphy is tied to a chair while all the fun stuff is happening) and then they DISCUSS THE SCENE BC I'M GREAT AT PORN
> 
> unbeta'd bc so much porn, so please let me know if there are millions of typos

Bellamy was going to this scene nervous. It was far from their first time, but the particular content of this fantasy irked him. It was hot as hell in a Might Hit Too Close To Home kind of way. He had wanted to plan more, but Murphy had stopped him. For Murphy, scenes were about abdication of control, and while he was more than happy to approve the barebones of a scene, or a list of possibilities, he got irritable when asked to micromanage a scene, which left the onus on Bellamy and Clarke.

The two of them, as a united front, were amazing and somewhat sadistic and very, very careful.

Murphy was always very obliging right when they began. He let Clarke kiss him and pet him and slick him up for the toy she had picked out. Knowing her, something sizable and unyielding, because she liked to make Murphy work and hurt and struggle. He whined loudly, and Bellamy cradled Murphy’s face in his hands.

“You’re okay, Murphy,” he said, and kissed him, and Murphy kissed back hungrily but pliant. He was also so good for them right before a scene, and it helped chip away at Bellamy’s nervousness. “We love you.” Murphy leaned against Bellamy and let himself be held while Clarke finished settling the plug in his ass.

She stood, smirking, kissed them both, and shoved Murphy towards the chair in the corner, that they had placed there for this reason. It was a sturdy metal thing with armrests, and Murphy stumbled onto it, wincing as his ass hit the seat, but he grinned cheekily at them.

“That it?” he asked, knowing it wasn’t.

Bellamy grinned back, giddy. “Clarke, can you get the ropes?” She kissed him on the cheek and went to their closet to grab the ropes, and Bellamy knelt in front of Murphy. “Any special requests?”

Murphy rolled his eyes, but averted his gaze fixating on the floor by Bellamy’s knee. “Can I get a gag?” He was blushing, like this is the thing that was too embarrassing to take. Murphy was a little orally fixated, which is not a problem, because both Bellamy and Clarke love him with his mouth stuffed and aching and drooling.

“Sure,” Bellamy said, because they were low-key be planning on gagging him anyway, then called over his shoulder, “hey Clarke—”

Clarke kicked his thigh gently, standing behind him with four short coils of rope and a very ambitious cock gag. Murphy opened his mouth wide, obedient, but with his eyebrow raised because even obedient he was sort of a sarcastic asshole. “Shut up,” Clarke said, and shoved the cock into his mouth.

Murphy choked slightly, eyes widening as he adjusted to the size, and Clarke was already buckling it on tight. His eyes watered a little bit, and Bellamy was embarrassed at how hot he found it.

“Swallow,” Clarke coached, and threw some rope to Bellamy. Murphy did, and retched slightly, but when Bellamy glanced at him sharply Murphy gave him a thumbs up, so he uncoiled the rope with a wrist snap.

They each took an arm and leg, and Bellamy was irritated to see that Clarke was showing off, tying fancy knots, and Murphy winked at him. His lips were covered, but Bellamy could sense the smirk behind it, because of course Murphy knew that Bellamy felt self-conscious about his ropework. He pulled the rope tighter, which made Murphy moan, eyes fluttering shut, so it wasn’t all bad. 

“All done,” Bellamy said, standing and stepping away from him. Now that he was all tied down, whatever aspect of Murphy that made him obedient or obliging faded, and at once he was struggling and scowling around the gag. Bellamy was jittery now, probably shaking, ready and willing and excited, but also worried that this would go wrong, that it would be too much of the wrong kind of humiliation and that Murphy would be hurt in the wrong sort of way.

Clarke smiled, turning to face Bellamy and dramatically miming wiping her hands clean. “Glad to be rid of that,” she said harshly, gesturing at Murphy with a tilt of her head. Murphy moaned softly, but Clarke ignored him to pull Bellamy into a kiss. “It can be such a distraction,” she complained, peppering his face with kisses.

Bellamy’s position left him looking directly at Murphy and he smirked. “You can’t blame it for that,” he said, and got to watch the fury and humiliation overtake Murphy’s face as he realized that they were referring to him as it. “It can’t help the fact that it’s useless.”

Murphy yelled, and Bellamy watched him gag on the cock in his mouth and then hide his face. When he lifted it again a moment later, there were tears on his face, either from retching or from shame, but Murphy, still glaring, gave him a thumbs up, so Bellamy turned his focus to kissing Clarke on the neck, in the way that made her sigh and squirm. 

Bellamy spun Clarke and pushed her longwise onto the edge of the bed. She smiled at him sweetly, a sharp contrast to how she had looked at Murphy, and Murphy whined. “Let me go down on you,” Bellamy suggested, already helping her out of her shirt and underwear. She was lovely and he loved her body, so he gave himself a moment to look her up and down.

Clarke sighed happily, eyelashes fluttering. “Please! I haven’t been given good head in ages. Not one of its skills.”

Bellamy chuckled, pressing a kiss to her stomach. “It doesn’t have that many skills to begin with. It can’t suck cock, either.” Murphy made another muffled noise followed loud gargling retch, and Bellamy stopped his barrage of kisses for long enough to make sure that Clarke had an eye on their boy, before continuing downward towards her cunt. He spread her legs easily, and Clarke moaned exaggeratedly rolling her whole body in performance for Murphy.

“Put your mouth on me, Bell,” Clarke commanded, and Bellamy did, diving between her legs and placing his lips gingerly around her clit. He sucked, gently, rocking his tongue back and forth along the underside of her clit, and circled the entrance to her cunt with the pad of his thumb, spreading the wetness there. Clarke hummed appreciatively and wrapped her legs around her neck, bracketing his head with her thighs. “It could learn something from you.”

Bellamy snorted and sucked a little harder, pressing his thumb inside her slowly and dragging it out roughly, then doing it again. She arched into him, and he couldn’t see it in this position, but he knew how lovely Clarke looked disheveled and how perfectly her back curved, and how Murphy’s eyes would be glued to her.

“Don’t know why we keep it around,” Clarke said, panting out words between little hard breaths. “Can’t give head, barely has a cock to speak of. What use is it?” Murphy made a piteous whine and Bellamy grinned around Clarke.

She nudged his back with the heel of her foot and Bellamy rolled his eyes. As if he didn’t know what she liked at this point in their relationship. He moved his thumb and slid down, burying his tongue inside her. She was wet and warm and he lapped her up as he pressed the pad of his thumb to her clit, hard. Her thighs pressed in tighter around his head, heels digging into his back as she gasped and moaned. Bellamy reached up with his spare hand and scratched at Clarke’s stomach. 

He circled her clit roughly and twisted his tongue inside her. He could see her hands had moved to her own nipples, and she squeezed them roughly. To his right, Murphy was moaning, a low continuous, desperate sound, and with a final hard press, Clarke writhed her way through an orgasm on his tongue. He pulled his thumb away quickly, knowing Clarke was prone to sensitivity after, but licked her through her aftershocks, pulling away when she was clean. 

He pulled back, grinning, knowing his face was wet with her, and Clarke smiled back, disheveled, and sweet, and sated. The plan, as far as Murphy was concerned, was fucking, with no more details given, but Clarke and Bellamy had planned it out further; he would go down on her, and then he would fuck her, and then they would tease Murphy some more, maybe let him cum. He was preoccupied, though, by what Clarke said. Murphy had a fine cock, but in this game he didn’t. That was more of a problem for Bellamy than for Clarke, who could still be theoretically fucked by Bellamy, but if Bellamy wanted to be fucked, in this fantast they’ve spun, he was out of luck. Suddenly, he really wanted to get fucked.

“I’m suffering, Clarke,” he told her earnestly.

They’ve done this enough that Clarke could tell that Bellamy was improvising, and also knew him well enough to know he was probably going to suggest something she would like. “Oh?” she asked, raising her eyebrows.

“Considering our little toy doesn’t have a cock worth a damn, I haven’t been fucked well in an age.” He smiled slyly, glancing at Murphy again for the first time in a while. Murphy was sweaty and ruddy-cheeked and wet-faced, and his hips were rolling back and forth, rocking on the plug in his ass. He cock lay hard against his thigh and he fought hard against his binds. Glaring, he gave Bellamy a thumbs up again, and Bellamy laughed.

Clarke grinned. “Let me go slip into something suitable.” She stood up, walking to their closet and tossing him a pump bottle of lube.

Bellamy positioned himself at the edge of the bed while Clarke rummaged through their toys, skipping straight ahead to two fingers and fucking himself roughly while Murphy looked on. His cock had been hard from the get go, but he was harder now, wet at the tip and flushed pink. Bellamy moaned, only slightly exaggerated, because he loved the burn of a rough fucking and he loved the desperate way Murphy was looking at him and he loved Clarke’s taste in toys.

Clarke sauntered over wearing a harness with a purple dildo that was larger than either Bellamy or Murphy’s dicks. She walked over to the bed, grabbed Bellamy’s hair and pulled him into a hard kiss. “Want another finger, or you want it to a hurt a little?”

Bellamy groaned. “Want the stretch,” he said roughly. “I’ll I’ve had for ages is its tiny dick,” he nodded towards Murphy who whined, “so I want to really feel you.” He pulled his fingers out of himself and got back onto the bed, body down and ass up, staring directly at Murphy as Clarke knelt up behind him.

Clarke pushed into him slowly, and Bellamy moaned, locking eyes with Murphy. He started fisting his cock. Murphy’s hips rocked and his cock twitched hard and he shook, gagging and crying and frantic. Clarke pulled out slowly, and pushed in, steady but insistent. 

“How’s that, Bell?” she asked, winking at Murphy who glowered.

“So good.” Bellamy rocked back into Clarke’s next thrust, gasping as she filled him thoroughly. “Fuck. Why do we even keep it around? You’ve got a way better cock.”

Clarke laughed, speeding up her thrusts, and there was no way Bellamy was going to last long. “I suppose it’s not too bad to look at.” 

Murphy gagged again, and Bellamy could see the muscle of Murphy’s stomach contract and fuck that was hot. “Not great to look at either,” Bellamy countered, crying out when Clarke pushed into him harder. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum, you’re so good at fucking me, Clarke. Who fucking needs that when I could have you?”

Murphy screamed again, enraged and crying and still so hard and Bellamy couldn’t take it, between the sight and Clarke’s cock inside him and his own hand on himself, and he spilled on his fingers with a final cry. Bellamy buried his face in the bed as he breathed through sensations, Clarke slowing to a still behind him. She pulled out of him carefully, but it still caused little shocks overstimulation and he grunted, wiggling his hips off her cock.

Clarke tossed a towel to him and it landed next to his head. Groaning, he sat up and used it to clean his hand and dick, then rolled his shoulders and got off the bed, joining Clarke standing by Murphy.

She removed the gag from his mouth and he retched again as he came out, a glob of spit following it out. Murphy panted a few quick breaths, shaking and sobbing. Clarke hushed him, pulling his head to her chest. “What do you need Murphy?”

“I don’t know?” he said softly, voice strained and scratchy.

“Want to be untied?” Bellamy asked him gently, squeezing Murphy’s shoulder. Murphy hesitated, unsure. “We can untie you and hold you, and let you cum.”

Murphy shook his head violently in Clarke’s embrace. “Don’t want to cum. Not important.”

Bellamy met Clarke’s eyes above Murphy’s head, and her expression was as tight and unhappy as his. “Here’s what we’re going to do,” Bellamy said, voice commanding and strong, because he was nothing if not good in a crisis. “We’re going to untie you, and then we’re going to lie down in bed and we’re going to hold you, because that’s what we want to do.”

Murphy nodded slowly. Bellamy kissed Murphy’s head then knelt down, untying his own knots quickly, but struggling unhappily with Clarke’s knots. Once untied, Bellamy lifted Murphy bridal style and laid him on the bed, he and Clarke bracketing Murphy as he slowly calmed.

“Fuck,” Murphy said, some time later. “That was fucking intense.”

“Good intense?” Clarke asked, earnest and anxious, and Murphy fixed her with a dopey smile. Bellamy loved them both so much he could choke on it.

“Great intense.” He burrowed into them further.

Bellamy kissed his temple. “Anything you didn’t like?”

Murphy hummed thoughtfully. “Everything was really hot? But there were some things that were simultaneously really hot and really hard to hear? Like it was okay this time, because we didn’t know it would be bad, but it wouldn’t be okay if it happened again? I don’t know, sorry.”

Which was sort of what Bellamy had worried about. Murphy didn’t seem to be close to a panic attack, though, so Bellamy counted it as a plus.

Clarke rolled so she was half on top of him. “Don’t apologize. We can go over it later. As long as it was a net positive.”

Murphy nodded. “Definitely net positive.”

“Do you want to cum, now?” Murphy had all but completely softened, but Bellamy was unsure what Murphy would want. Murphy shook his head, leaning it heavily on Bellamy’s chest. “The scene’s over. We’d be happy to get you off if you’d like.” Clarke nodded emphatically.

Murphy shook his head again. “No. I know it’s over, but it’s hot? I want to pretend it’s real for another second? That I’m really just your toy and I don’t get to cum hardly ever, because I’m not even important? I’m just here for you to use.”

Clarke head-butted him gently. “You know that isn’t true, right? That we love you?”

Murphy rolled his eyes, but Bellamy was not about to have that. Despite the fact that his arm was falling asleep, Bellamy wrapped the two of them in his arms. “We do love you, Murphy. You’re an important part of this relationship, and as hot as this fantasy was, it’s just a fantasy, and if it fucks any of us up too much, we won’t do it again.”

Murphy let out a long irritated groan. “I know, Jesus Christ, let me exhibit autonomy over my own fucking orgasms by choosing not to have one right now, okay?” Clarke started laughing and then Murphy and Bellamy did, too, and they were sweaty and gross and in desperate need of a shower and Bellamy’s arm was going to literally fall off, but they were all wrapped up in each other, and Bellamy was not going to do anything that could change that.


	2. Day Nine: Asphyxiation and Lingerie and Frottage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter contains: breathplay, lingerie (if you consider corsets lingerie ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯), frottage, collars, and Clarke literally measuring Murphy's pulse ox bc she's a medical professional in every au I write and also bc she's Anxious™
> 
> also breathplay can be really dangerous! make sure you know what you're doing! however this type is arguably safest! enjoy!
> 
> unbeta'd, so feel free to help a boi out

They put him the collar first. It was a hefty leather thing that Bellamy buckled as tight as it would go, not tight enough to actually cut off Murphy’s air, but tight enough it gave the impression of doing so, and popped a lock on it. Murphy gasped around it, hands coming up to grasp at it. He clung to the lock for a long moment, letting his helplessness really sink in.

“Say something,” Bellamy commanded, offhanded but still brooking no argument.

“Go fuck yourself,” Murphy said, voice only slightly changed by the collar, hoarser and softer, but not strangled sounding.

Clarke sighed, exasperated. “Behave,” she said, and Murphy grinned and fluttered his eyelashes at her flirtatiously.

Clarke handed Bellamy the corset next, mouth in a thin, tight line. She wasn’t the biggest fan of this plan, but she had a finger cover that measured pulse ox on hand, and was prepared to be the medical professional she was, if the need arose. Bellamy smiled at her and patted Murphy lightly on the cheek, barely a slap, but it still got him gasping.

Murphy, pliant, let Clarke help boost him up, so Bellamy could wrap the corset around Murphy’s waist, closing the busk and settling it into the correct position. It was steel-boned and canvas on the inside, red silk on the outside, which made Murphy look smaller and more feminine. Clarke stabilized him as Bellamy moved around the back, and began tightening the laces.

“Fuck,” Murphy hissed at Bellamy’s first hard pull.

Clarke linked her fingers in the ring of his collar and pulled his head upwards at a sharp angle. “Murphy, watch your language.”

“Yes, Clarke,” he said, softer, and groaned when Bellamy pulled again.

When he finally stopped, Murphy’s waist had been pulled into an hourglass, and he was white-faced and gasping, leaning hard against Clarke. He reached weakly for the busk, but Clarke smacked his hand down. She used this opportunity to slide the oximeter onto Murphy’s finger and make sure he was actually getting enough air.

“We’ll stay here for a few minutes,” Bellamy said, tying a bow. “When you’re breathing easier, we’ll tighten it up some more.” Murphy groaned, falling backwards onto Bellamy, who laughed. “Lazy.”

“Not lazy,” Murphy argued, breathlessly. “Can’t fucking breathe.”

Clarke snorted, reassured that he was fine. “If you have enough air to be a brat, I’d say you have more than enough.”

They waited a few more minutes, anyway. In the interim, Clarke pulled at Murphy’s hair and Bellamy toyed with his nipples, and by the time Bellamy decided he was ready enough, Murphy was hard and squirming.

Murphy leaned against Clarke while Bellamy gathered the laces in his hands and pulled. Murphy panted, pale and clammy, as Bellamy pulled it tighter. He was having real trouble sucking in air through the constriction and Clarke held him and cooed at him.

“Say something,” Bellamy said again.

Murphy swallowed with visible effort. “F…fuck,” he said, barely intelligible and breathy and soft.

“Good,” Bellamy said, and kissed his cheek. He threw Murphy down onto the bed and Clarke followed him down, anxiously checking his pulse ox again. It was harder for him to breathe on his back and he writhed, gasping and struggling. Bellamy crouched over him, pressing his thigh insistently into Murphy’s hard cock. “Get yourself off on my thigh, and we’ll let you breathe.”

Murphy moaned, softly, reaching his hands up listlessly and rolling his hips into Bellamy’s thigh. Clarke, patiently, guided his hands to his nipples, which he attacked without more prompting, gasping and struggling on air. His face was paler than Bellamy had seen it, sweaty and waxy, and his throat worked hard against the collar, which he knew from experience was harder to handle lying down.

“Fuck,” Murphy whispered again, hips jittering against Bellamy, pressing and pushing and shaking. His orgasm hit him quick, stealing his breath completely, as he shook his way through it, arching completely off the bed. When he finally hit the bed, panting harshly, Clarke helped him up immediately. “Lemme go?” he choked out.

Bellamy grinned. “I don’t know. I think we could make it tighter.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> writing this really just makes me want to catch up with the 100 someone tell me if I honestly should


	3. Day Thirteen: Medical Play (Immobilization) and Rimming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter isn't really porny? or sexy? it just kind of exists? and i'm sorry.
> 
> this chapter contains: fiberglass cast bondage (so like, mummification), sensory deprivation, sex, rimming, orgasm denial (blink and you'll miss it), lots of negotiation??
> 
> really really badly unbeta'd

Surprisingly, this idea was all Clarke. Usually they're Bad Idea kinks came from Murphy, who had no sense of self preservation, or Bellamy, who had poor impulse control, but Clarke had contributed a few Bad Ideas here and there and this one absolutely one such case.

“It'll be impossible to move,” she told them as she laid the supplies she had stolen from the hospital on the table in front of them. “It'll be dark, and really hot as it activates, and if you want out early it's going to take a solid five minutes.”

Murphy smirked. “If I endure the whole time, do I get a reward?” He leered directly at her, and Clarke rolled her eyes, ignoring Bellamy and his noble attempt to keep from laughing.

The thing was, though, that Murphy really liked all those things, including that he wouldn't be able to get away right away: it was real in way bondage wasn't usually. To be fair, he was sure his opinion would change if he was, for instance, having a panic attack and had to handle his shit for five minutes, but that hadn't happened during sex for quite some time, so he agreed.

They did test casts, first. Clarke chose fiberglass over plaster so the weight wouldn't strain Murphy's muscles, despite the fact that he said he would be fine with it (Murphy wouldn’t let them take care of him the vast majority of the time, so Clarke used their scenes to care for Murphy and stop him from making really stupid decisions). He spent an altogether amazing afternoon ring-gagged and blindfolded and drooling, stuck crawling with his hands and feet encased in cotton padding and rigid pink fiberglass while Bellamy and Clarke teased and tormented him.

(She had picked pink on purpose, because she knew would embarrass him, make him blushy and blustery with pointless angry, mostly at how much he liked it. She was working on toxic masculinity with both of them.)

They tried twice more, increasing the amount of immobility each time until Murphy was anxious to do the real deal. He sat quietly while Clarke finished laying out the materials on a plastic tarp in their bedroom, changed into scrubs, and started putting on gloves before Murphy got antsy.

“How long are you going to keep me like that?” he asked, swallowing hard as Clarke snapped the gloves on her hands. He was a little ashamed to admit that after the amount of gloves his girlfriend and boyfriend went through, he was beginning to have a Pavlovian response to them.

Bellamy snapped his on, too, and Murphy's eyes darted to him, and god it was embarrassing how much he liked that sound. “As long as we want.” Bellamy and Clarke made significant eye contact, but Murphy ignored it, trying to work out the lump in his throat.

Murphy waffled, tilting his head side to side as he considered. “Yeah, no, that's not going to work for me. It's a really hot image and I'm 100% going to be pretending that it's a fact, but I need a time frame.”

They both beamed at him. Their never ending quest to make Murphy care about his own wellbeing was an uphill battle, but a worthwhile one. “Thank you for telling us,” Clarke said, earnestly.

“Excellent boundary making,” Bellamy added, smiling sweetly, which made Murphy’s stomach feel gross and squirmy.

“Yeah,” Murphy said, “whatever.”

Clarke put her hand on his shoulder, comforting and confident. “We were thinking about four hours. Maybe less.”

Murphy nodded slowly. “Yeah. Okay. Lemme just go take a piss before that.”

Clarke rolled her eyes, fondly exasperated. Bellamy, predictably, laughed, but then continued placing fans strategically throughout the room so Clarke let it go. Murphy was going to get hot, but hopefully not so hot that they’d have to cut the scene early. When he came back, they started by wrapping his torso, first in cotton, the in wetted fiberglass tape, smoothing it along as they went. They moved on to his arms, next, straight out to the sides and bent up by his head. It took about five minutes to begin to truly harden, and by that point Murphy was hard and moaning.

“Oh, fuck,” he said, trying his hardest to roll his shoulders, but they didn’t budge at all.

“Maybe later, if you’re good.” Bellamy winked and Murphy rolled his eyes.

They lay Murphy down on his back on the tarp, wiggling and trying to struggle out of the fiberglass to no avail. They did his legs next, bundling them up in cotton and bending slightly up and spread out as wide as would be comfortable, following it up quickly with the tape, skipping only his crotch. Ten minutes later had him bound up in fiberglass from neck to toes, and he fought, it as hard as he could, but there was no real give.

The intense heat that the fiberglass curing had created was finally beginning to dissipate when Clarke came fully into his view and smiled at him, only a little mean. “We can do your head,” she said slowly, putting no inflection into her voice, because she didn’t want him picking the choice he though she would want. She wanted his own honest opinion, which was always a struggle to get. “Or we can do a combo gag-blindfold-earplug thing. It’ll be the same effect, only much easier to get you out of it. Your choice.”

Murphy smirked, all false bravado to cover the anxious arousal he was feeling. “Do my head,” he said. “Yolo.”

Clarke took a deep breath and tried not to hate her boyfriends, as Bellamy, standing back and gathering the unused padding, cackled. “Okay.” She held out a longish piece of plastic tubing. “Put this between your teeth, don’t bite down too hard, and remember you can always safeword.”

Murphy nodded, impatiently, and accepted the tube into his mouth. Bellamy came at him next with the roll of padding, covering his eyes first, then moving down and around, over his ears and nose and mouth, until his entire head was covered. His hearing was muffled but not gone, but even if he had been, the heat of the fiberglass on his head was definitely more intense than the rest of the body and he knew the second it began curing. He had more than enough air coming through the tube, so relaxed into the bondage and let himself drift.

It was his favorite sort of bondage; the type where no amount of fighting could get you anywhere, and eventually you’d have to give in to it. It was freeing for him, because he was meant to give up. No one was going to call him a quitter or critique his form. He was meant to give in, and he loved it.

The cast stuff was perfect for that. He was encased, head to toe, and he could barely move a muscle, barely move enough to strain against it. He was caught, at Bellamy and Clarke’s mercy (they could keep him here forever, and what could he do? Nothing. He could do nothing—except safeword, but that wasn’t very fun fantasy fodder, now was it?).

As the fiberglass around his head cured, the sense of isolation and powerlessness grew. He tried shifting his jaw to move the tubing in his mouth, but he couldn’t really move it. The cast didn’t cause real pressure, but it did leave him with not enough space to move around it. He was trapped, really trapped, and it was dark and quiet and Murphy wanted to be good for Clarke and Bellamy, wanted to make them happy like they made him happy. He tried to wiggle his whole body, both to reaffirm his own helplessness, and because from their trial runs, he knew that Clarke and Bellamy liked watching him fight this particular losing battle.

He couldn’t make out words, and all the sounds he could hear sounded like they were coming from several rooms away, but he could hear Clarke’s voice, and then Bellamy laughing. He tried to tense up, sure that something terrible or challenging was about to happen, but he couldn’t really do anything except relax into the bondage and ride his endorphins to the end of the line.

Clarke smiled at Bellamy, striping off her scrubs bottom. “I thought it might be fun if I let him fuck me while he can’t see it.”

Bellamy laughed. He was mostly hanging back for this scene. This kink, while very hot to watch and participate in—although, to be fair, pretty much everything they did with Murphy was hot—was Clarke’s, and she got to call the shots.

“That’s just mean,” he said softly. “I like it.” The cast form shook slightly, and Bellamy laughed again. “Fuck, he’s so trapped in there. It’s so hot, why is it so hot?”

Clarke pulled off her gloves and cracked her fingers. “Because he’s completely dependent on us? And because he put himself, willingly, into that position? And because we have over-the-top romantic feelings for him?”

“Yeah,” he agreed, running a hand that Murphy could not feel up his thigh. “All of that.” He reached out to stroke Murphy’s dick, ignoring his own dick’s pretty solid interest in the proceedings. Murphy squealed, muffled, and got harder for Bellamy. “You going to let him cum?”

Clarke laughed. “Not sure yet.” She looked back at Bellamy, considering, then back at the solid-form on the floor. “We should move him on the bed. Help?”

Together, they heaved him up onto the bed, while he yelled, disoriented at the sudden movement. “What now?” Bellamy asked.

Clarke turned around and tossed him a dental dam, holding up lube and an elastic cock-ring. “Want to eat him out?” she suggested, and yes, Bellamy absolutely wanted that. “Let me settle up top, then you can get in on the action.”

She wrapped the cock ring around Murphy’s cock, ignoring his loud unhappy groan, slicking up his bound cock. She glanced backwards, making sure that Bellamy was in place, and then settled herself over him, easing herself down onto his dick. Bottoming out she groaned, squeezing tight around him. Murphy let out a strangled moan and his wrapped arms shook, slightly. Clarke grinned, drinking in the sight of his helplessness, and the desperate quivering of his body under hers.

Bellamy unwrapped the dental dam, tucking the edges into the casted parts around his hips so he’s have unfettered access to Murphy’s ass. Murphy liked being rimmed, but struggled to get past the base part of himself that was intimately grossed out by it, so Bellamy liked nothing more than performing the act on him when Murphy was indisposed. He could tell Murphy knew exactly what was going to happen because his form shook slightly, another loud groan emanating from his featureless face.

After being moved, Murphy was so disoriented, he honestly couldn’t tell if he was still now, or still moving. He was dizzy with nerves, with motion sickness, dizzy with the unexpected wetness of Clarke’s cunt on his cock and the warmth of Bellamy’s tongue in his ass. He shook, tried to move his limbs in protest, but he didn’t have the strength, had no recourse but to give in to the stimulation, with very little chance of relief.

Clarke got herself off fairly quickly on his prone body, bending down to say, right by his ear, “That was what you wanted, right?” and laughing at his shout of protest. She pulled off him, and jacked him off slowly, leaning on top of him (pressure he could barely feel) and enjoying the view of Bellamy with his tongue in Murphy’s ass.

Bellamy ate his ass until his tongue began to get sore, then he pulled away, stretching his jaw and grinning at Clarke. “My turn riding him?”

She laughed. “You going to let him cum?”

“Not sure yet.” He winked at her. “Want to help me stretch out my ass?”

Clarke agreed, readily. “Sure, but put your hand somewhere he can feel. Not sure how he’ll take to be left on his own.”

They continued trading fucking him back and forth for a few hours, finally deciding to release him when he was whining almost non-stop, body shaking desperate tremors. Bellamy sucked him off as Clarke prepared the cast-saw, getting him off right before she finished. Clarke cut his head out first, and Bellamy kissed his cheeks and massaged his jaw and Clarke moved the saw down his body carefully.

When he was finally released, sweaty and jittery, Clarke rubbed out his sore muscles, and then they held him close until his words came to him again. Clarke got him water and granola bars while Bellamy wrapped him in blanket, and they both held him as he tried to surface.

“How was that?” Clarke asked him, when he had eaten and drunk and was making complete sentences again.

Murphy hummed thoughtfully. “I liked it. It was hard, but it was nice. Like, I didn’t have any choices, so there wasn’t anything I could do wrong, really? And it was also sort of comforting? Don’t laugh.”

Bellamy had his serious face on. “We wouldn’t, Murphy, never.” Clarke nodded along, but she also knew that Murphy knew this, and it was his anxiety talking.

“I know we don’t do bondage because it’s comforting.”

“No,” Clarke agreed. “We do it because it’s something we all enjoy, even if we get different things out of it. I’m glad it’s something you enjoy, for whatever reasons you enjoy it.”

Murphy leaned his head against her heavily, and smirked. “So next time for longer?”

Clarke rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t help but smile as Bellamy and Murphy laughed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello i'm gabe racetrackthehiggins and ????????


	4. Day Sixteen: Pegging and (Gas) Masks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> good golly this chapter took forever to write and it's nothing new lol
> 
> this chapter has: MOAR PEGGING, more breathplay, orgasm delay/denial, reference to possible double penetration

Murphy had bought the gas mask for a Halloween costume. He and a group of friends had been going as a futuristic post-apocalyptic group of survivors, and the gasmask had fit right in. Returning from Halloween, Murphy had given his significant others a significant look and then put it down where it sat in their closet, untouched, until Bellamy had yelled, “Jesus, Murphy, if you want to use that fucking mask for sex, use your words!”

Murphy, grinning a shit-eating grin, convinced Bellamy to indulge him using his mouth but not his words.

When they finally got around to it, Clarke and Bellamy had bound Murphy’s hands wrist-to-wrist behind his back and fastened a belt around his biceps, pulling them closer together, and making his back bow with the strain. Bound, they guided him onto Clarke’s cock, which today was a massive, green ribbed thing.

Bellamy knelt behind Murphy, pinching his nipples and pulling at Murphy’s cock as he settled slowly on the wide, odd-shaped dildo. “You ready for the mask?” Bellamy asked.

Murphy nodded, pliant and obedient.

Clarke shot Bellamy very unimpressed look over Murphy’s shoulder. He smiled at her, pulled the pulse oximeter from his back pocket and slipped it on Murphy’s finger, raising his eyebrows at her.

She rolled her eyes, smiling indulgently, and passed Bellamy the gasmask. He eased the mask over Murphy’s head, settling it into place. “How’s that, Murphy?”

Murphy nods, already a little breathless and more than a little hard.

They had taped up the eyeholes, so Murphy was blind, and covered the breathing hole with another piece of tape, which Clarke had painstakingly poked a handful of holes in. He could breathe fine, if he sucked in breaths with all his might. That might have been feasible, if he wasn’t also meant to be bouncing on Clarke’s cock.

He was already getting fatigued from attempting to breathe and they had barely begun. Bellamy’s hands on his hips guided him slowly up and down on Clarke’s cock. He leaned into the motion, beginning to fuck himself without the guidance.

Clarke steadied her hips, letting Murphy do the work, and twisted her fingers beneath the phallus to rub at her clit. Murphy worked himself up and down, getting shaky almost immediately, his legs burning and his lungs burning, and his face was so hot in the mask he thought he might melt to pieces.

“C’mon, Murphy, that all you got?” Bellamy goaded, while Murphy tried his best to breathe and stay upright on Clarke’s cock. Bellamy’s gaze was fixed on the number readout on the oximeter, but his hands were on Murphy’s nipples, his cock, his neck, grazing and scraping and pinching as Murphy tried to hold himself together.

“Think you can cum before I do?” Clarke asked, a little breathy as she brought herself closer to the edge.

Murphy shook his head desperately, gasping and trying to suck in air as Bellamy squeezed his balls and pinched his sides. “Fuck,” he wheezed, immediately trying to draw another breath.

Clarke laughed, throwing her head back. “Think I’m going to beat you.”

“No, please,” Murphy moaned, breathless, shaking hard against Bellamy. He couldn’t draw a full breath, he couldn’t, and he would come apart if it wasn’t for the rope keeping him stuck so tight.

Murphy’s numbers were good, so Bellamy took a moment to lay kisses across Murphy’s neck and shoulders. “You want some more air?” Murphy nodded, frantically, and Bellamy grinned, happy to keep Murphy in this place, in the in-between and out of control. “Cum before Clarke and I’ll let you,” he said, and set to stroking Murphy.

Clarke gasped, body rolling slightly as she laughed, “Too late.” She rode out her orgasm with sharp thrusts to Murphy that had him gasping and trying to lift himself off her cock. “None of that,” she ordered, grabbing his hips and forcing him down. Regaining her breath she smiled at Bellamy over Murphy’s heaving shoulders.

“Please,” Murphy gasped. He was roiling with attempted breath, quivering and fighting, but he was getting enough air, even though it almost certainly didn’t feel like it.

Bellamy laughed again. “Rules are rules, bud. But don’t worry. I’m going to fuck you, so you’ll get another chance to cum first. And if you haven’t managed by then,” he said, winking at Clarke, “you’ll just have to figure out how to take us both at the same time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tell us how you really feel about breathplay, gabe


	5. Day Twenty: Pet Play and Threesomes (HAHAHA)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one ends sorta in the middle on account of i'm sick and on vaycay sorry pals
> 
> this chapter contains: kitten play, a built in threesome, lots of humiliation and a reference to hypothetical MORE humilation

Murphy had a bell. The fact that he hated the bell made it all the more rewarding for Bellamy to clip it to his collar with a grin. “Now you won’t be able to hide from us,” he said. The mitts on his hands were only slightly less embarrassing than the bell, and Murphy would absolutely die of embarrassment if anyone saw the ears. Or the tail.

“I think you’re a very pretty kitty,” Clarke had told him, after she had bound his ankles to his thighs, and begun working the massive tail plug into his ass. He had hidden his face in his mitted hands, not wanting Clarke to see the life-ending combo of shame and appreciation that were warring there.

He had spent the first part of day napping on the sunny part of the couch, cozy and floaty and only distantly aware of how objectively embarrassing this whole thing was. When he woke, he spent time batting at Bellamy when he wanted attention, and generally making a nuisance of himself. Bellamy let him lounge on his lap, and Murphy let himself be petted and doted on and occasionally hand fed pieces of fruit.

Murphy had tried that on Clarke, too, but when he had threatened to shove her glass of water off the table, she had lead him firmly out of the room and shut the door behind him. He had spent ten minutes struggling with the doorknob until he realized he would be unable to open it with his mitts, and at that point, feeling spiteful, Murphy had hidden in the closet.

Hence the bell.

“Johnny,” Clarke called him from the kitchen, because he only allowed his significant others to use his given name in situations like this, and Clarke got the most use of it as she could. “Snack time!”

He crawled into the kitchen sullenly, bell tinkling with each movement. By the time he got to the kitchen, he was red in the face, ashamed and only half in that floaty space. He was pretty sure Clarke liked the second part of these days best. Bellamy, he was pretty sure, liked the part where Murphy was cuddly, affectionate and nappy.

Clarke liked the part where she got to humiliate him.

She was standing in the kitchen smiling, an overly large ring gag dangling from her hand. He reached her feet and arched his back, displaying his displeasure, which only made her smile grow. “Come on, Johnny, open up. I have a snack for you.”

He opened his mouth reluctantly and Clarke swooped down, wedging his jaws open and buckling it tight, before kissing him lightly on the top of his head. She put a bowl of milk on the floor in front of him, still smiling broadly, and Murphy whined when he realized what the game was.

“Drink it all up, kitty,” she said in her Small-Animals-and-Children voice, which made his face go redder. 

He crawled over to the bowl, bell tinkling cheerfully, and leaned over it. He tries to lap up the milk with his tongue, but he wasn’t able to get that much. He lowered his head further, and managed to suck up a decent amount, but it made a mortifying slurp noise, and he squeezed his eyes shut, overcome with shame.

And of course, the fucking bell jingled.

Clarke called Bellamy over, which was also worse. Being embarrassed in front of one of them was bad, both of them was nightmarish. “That bell was such a nice touch,” she said to Bellamy, speaking to him like Murphy wasn’t literally at their feet with his face in a bowl of milk. “He’s such a cute kitty.”

Bellamy laughed, warmly. “I figured you’d like that. You just like Johnny blushing.”

“Guilty as charged.” Murphy glanced up in time to see them kiss, and had a moment of unadulterated want, before Clarke caught him. She laughed, wrinkling her nose (probably at the milk on his face, Jesus he was going to die of embarrassment), and bent down to pat his head. “Messy kitty,” she admonished. “Finish your treat.” She stood back up and turned to Bellamy, all but ignoring Murphy again.

It made it harder to try and slurp up the milk when she wasn’t even looking. He was meant to embarrass himself because she wanted him to, even if she wasn’t watching, and the stupid bell was making stupid rings with every stupid movement, and he didn’t think his face could get hotter.

“I’m trying to think of how to make it worse for him next time,” she told Bellamy, like Murphy wasn’t right there, and like they weren’t talking about him. “Feed him the same way? Maybe tie him up more?”

Bellamy chuckled. “Bigger plug?”

“A man after my own heart!” They both looked down at him, he could see it out of the corner of his eye as he noisily slurped. She must have been paying attention, because she waited until he was struggling to swallow before she said, “Make him use a litter box?” and he choked.

They were both on the floor in an instant, Clarke unlocking the gag while Bellamy wiped the milk off his face with a wet paper towel as he coughed and tried to decide how serious Clarke was. They were both cooing at him, working seamlessly in tandem, until his face was unhindered and he was gasping for air. A litter box. Fuck, they were going to kill him, and he was going to die with a fucking bell on and tail up his ass.

“Johnny,” Bellamy said softly, patting his head. “You don’t have to use your words, but do you want us to fuck you, now?”

Murphy nodded eagerly, ready to move past the Clarke Humiliates Him part of the day and on to the part where he’d get fucked.

“Good kitty,” Clarke said in her baby voice, and Murphy revised his assessment. It might be impossible to actually move past the Clarke Humiliates Him segment. Bellamy lifted him up like he weighed nothing and carried him into their bedroom, dropping him on the bed. Clarke shucked her pants off and settled by the head of the bed. “Kitties like licking things, right?” she said innocently, placing her hands down next to her cunt.

Murphy fixed her with the most unimpressed look he could summon, but she laughed, so maybe the cat ears ruined the effect. Regardless, he all but dove into her crotch, licking her with short little licks instead of sucking her clit like her normally would. If she was going to call him a kitten she was going to get exactly what she asked for.

She moaned a tiny, happy moan, so it was possible that it was backfiring on him. She buried her hands in his hair, pulling him closer to her as Bellamy removed the plug from him in one harsh pull and Murphy’s toes curled. Bellamy pushed into him in another hard push as he buried his tongue in Clarke’s cunt.

Maybe, he thought, as Bellamy grasped his dick, this whole kitten thing had some merits.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm sick so be nice i guess idk i love you all


	6. Day Twenty-Six: Shotgunning and Stockings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter contains: pot smoking, bondage, waist cinchers, stockings, gags, locking high heels, and humiliation
> 
> co-starring the fact i'm still sick and also sleep
> 
> it's really short and i'm sorry

Murphy really ought to have known better than to trust Clarke when she had lit up at his suggestion. She was both known for twisting things in such a way as to make them as unpleasantly fun for Murphy as possible and also for not giving into the youthful whims of her boyfriends (like binge drinking and binge tv-ing and binge eating and general bingeing)—so her easy agreement to Murphy’s suggestion of smoking a bowl really should have raised more red flags than it did.

Clarke had dolled him up, first. She had done his make-up, something she did rarely, but that all of them enjoyed. Eyes-lined and lips bright, she had wedged his jaw open with a ring gag. “To make sure I got your lips all the way around,” she said, grinning, and began dressing him in black thigh high stockings and very high heels that locked onto his feet, and a waist-cincher.

“Give us a spin,” Bellamy commanded from the bed where he was lounging and packing their pipe.

Reluctantly, Murphy gave a little spin, unstable in the shoes, and feet already beginning to hurt. He took a tottering step and flushed, embarrassed at how unsteady he was. Bellamy was still staring at him, though, so Murphy gave him a lazy spirit finger wave and Clarke laughed.

“Good, point, Murphy, we should do something with your hands.” He groaned, but Clarke was already sidling behind him and affixing his wrists to the waist-cincher.

Murphy groaned, head lolling dramatically, and Bellamy snorted from the bed. “None of that, Murphy, you’re getting what you asked for.” Bellamy turned towards Clarke. “I like those heels, Clarke, but he doesn’t look stable in them yet. Maybe we should lock him into them more often, give him a chance to get used to them.”

Murphy groaned again, but his cock was straining towards the cincher. He liked it when they talked about him like he wasn’t there, but it wasn’t like his dick had to be so obvious about it. Clarke threw a pillow onto the ground and pushed Murphy onto his knees. “You about done?” she asked Bellamy, petting Murphy’s head gently. It was the sort of thing he hated, half comfort and half patronizing; another one of Clarke’s specialties.

“Yup,” Bellamy said, and lit the bowl. He took a long hit and passed the pipe to Clarke. Bellamy blew and ostentatious smoke ring at Murphy’s face and waggled his eyebrows. “Wanna hit, Murphy? What was that? No?”

Murphy tried to say yes around the gag, but it was garbled, which he figured had been Clarke’s intention. He knew they knew what he meant, anyway, but he also knew better than to think they’d pass up a chance to humiliate him. Presumably Clarke would take the gag off him when she was ready.

“Don’t be rude,” Clarke admonished Bellamy gently. “I’ll let him have mine.” She took a hit, held it a few second and then blew it in Murphy’s face.

He tried to take it into his held-open mouth, but he missed a large portion of the smoke, and found it hard to hold it inside his lungs, even though he knew logically that had nothing to do with closing his mouth.

Bellamy took the pipe back from her, taking another hit. He blew it into Murphy’s face while he was still exhaling the first, and he whined, trying to inhale the next hit immediately, and both Bellamy and Clarke laughed.

“You’re struggling this for someone who allegedly smokes a lot,” Clarke said.

“Allegedly,” Bellamy repeated, laughing. 

Murphy tried his hand at saying, “the gag,” but Clarke was having none of it.

“I thought you wanted to smoke.” She brushed his hair out his face, gentle and patronizing and beautiful. “You’re going to have to try a little harder than that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> one day i will be not be sick and on that day i will throw a parade


	7. Day Thirty-One: Chastity and Orgasm Denial and Feminization and Stuff

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> jesus this chapter is a monster and i wrote the whole fucking thing today enjoy
> 
> this chapter contains: cock cages/chastity devices, orgasm denial (duh), some non-sexual bondage, cuckolding, etc, feminzation take two, an asslock because i think those are incredible, and some sensation play with lidocaine!
> 
> unbeta'd, as always
> 
> thank you to lifehound4 for being super inspiration with their list

The cock cage was plastic and pink, because Clarke couldn’t let a single part of their relationship be about things that weren’t humiliating him. It was lightweight in his hand, which was terrible and deceptive, because he knew it was going to sort of suck.

“A week?” he offered weakly.

Bellamy shook his head, stern expression planted firmly on his face. “Ten days.” He glanced at Clarke, and when he turned back to Murphy, his expression had softened significantly. “Unless you’re safewording or you want to re-negotiate.”

Murphy shook his head. He wanted to go back in time and have negotiated with Future Murphy’s Horniness in mind, but part of the reason he liked doing scenes with Clarke and Bellamy was that they held him to what he wanted, even if in the moment he couldn’t remember why it was what he wanted. “Ten days,” he agreed with a huff.

“Perfect,” Clarke said, walking over to him and kissing him. He let himself melt into the kiss, let Clarke mold him with her lips and her will.

“Do I get to cum one more time?” he asked when she pulled away.

“Nope,” she said cheerfully. “You came last night, that’s it for the next ten days. Up on the bed, I’m going to put this thing on you.”

Murphy grumbled, but he scooted dutifully onto the edge of the bed, glancing anxiously between his girlfriend and boyfriend. He took a deep breath and blew it out slowly, then handed the cage to Clarke. Murphy wasn’t anxious, precisely, but the idea of having something lock around his cock for an extended period also wasn’t super comforting.

She took it from him, and Bellamy, who had been standing off to the side, sat down on the bed next to Murphy to wrap his arm around Murphy’s shoulder. “You’re doing so well,” he said to Murphy and kissed the side of his head, which actually succeeded in calming Murphy down some.

Clarke took the cage apart and knelt. She guided his cock and balls through the ring, and then smiling at him, pulled the short sheath onto his length. The two connected with a click and she reached in her pocket for a lock, which was heart shaped, and gave Murphy very conflicted feelings. 

On the one hand, they loved him, and the heart could be representative of that. On the other hand, Clarke probably meant it to embarrass him, with its soft connotations. His dick looked small, all bound up in pink plastic, and he was immediately filled with very unhelpful horniness.

“Any pinching?” Clarke asked in her I’m A Doctor voice. He shook his head, because his throat was a little dry. “Good. That’s good. Do you want to do a scene now, or do you want Bellamy to make us french toast, and watch Tiny House Hunters?” They usually only played a couple times a week, but they had agreed to do more scenes over the ten days, to make the most of Murphy’s time in the cage.

He thought about it for a second. It was strange, because he was hyper-fixated on his cock now, and how much he couldn’t cum, even if he really, really wanted to, but he wasn’t sure he was ready to jump into sex, which felt counterintuitive. “Second one,” he decided after a moment, because Clarke and Bellamy were always on him to honor his instincts.

Bellamy gave him a one armed hug, sighing. “I’ll go make breakfast, you two settle in.”

They didn’t play for the rest of the day, spending it mostly cuddling on the couch while Murphy tried to get used to cage. It was mostly easy to ignore, but then he’d get overcome with the need to touch himself, and the fact that he couldn’t would make him hard, which made the cage dig into him painfully, and then would continue in a cycle until he’d manage to calm himself down. He also had to pee sitting down, which something he hadn’t entirely planned for, but that Clarke had gleefully told him, so at least one of them had thought this through.

He was surprised at the mindset the cage put him in. He wasn’t quite in the floaty (or sometimes bratty) subspace he usually got in when they played, but it felt similar. He felt sort of needy, and eager to please, and woke up Clarke and Bellamy on day two by getting them off with his mouth. 

The three of them spent the day apart running errands, which was also weird. Murphy felt embarrassed the whole time he was out in public. The cage wasn’t particularly visible through his pants, but he felt like it was, like everyone could see that his cock didn’t work, all locked up and tucked away.

“This is the worst, I am dying to cum,” he told them the third day. He was kneeling up by the head of the bed with his hands clasped behind him, cock aching painfully as it tried to harden. Clarke had put tight nipple clamps on him to serve as a distraction, but he was pretty sure she knew that they would just add to his all around arousal.

“It’s just proof that you masturbate too much normally,” Bellamy told him, lying on the bed while Clarke bounced on his cock. “Shit, that feels good. Bet you wish you could get a hand on yourself, hmm?”

“Fuck you,” Murphy spat.

Clarke was rubbing her clit, and it made Murphy feel worse, that he couldn’t use his cock or even help Clarke get off with the parts of him that weren’t locked away. “Language!” she said, laughing. “You better be good or we’ll keep you locked away for longer.”

Murphy’s cock valiantly tried to get hard again at the threat. Masochism was such bullshit.

“Fuck longer,” Bellamy said, breathless. His hands were on Clarke’s ass, and his legs were shifting the way they did when he was close. “We’ll keep you locked up forever. How’d you like to never cum again?”

Murphy flushed, ashamed at how much harder he got at that. He they wouldn’t, but the thought was confusingly hot—he wanted to cum, but he wanted to be good for them more. “Pleeease.”

Clarke said, “Oh fuck,” cumming hard, and Bellamy following after her. They caught their breath, Clarke leaning heavily on Bellamy’s chest. She turned to face him, smiling and sweaty and beautiful and smiled. “Want to watch some tv?”

What he wanted was to cum, or to feel useful, or to feel so overwhelmed he couldn’t summon the need to feel useful. “Can you tie me up or something?”

Clarke’s grin widened. “Absolutely. Tie you up good, stuff your mouth and ass with something, and then we’ll watch tv.”

Bellamy snorted, shaking his head, but he was smiling, too. “All right, get up, let’s tie our boy up.”

They bound him up in a ball tie, an annoyingly small plug in his ass—too short to hit his prostate but also not thick enough to be satisfying—and a bit gag spreading his mouth wide and making him drool all over himself, but also Bobby Flay got his ass handed to him in both episodes of Beat Bobby Flay they watched, so despite the how insistent his dick was, it was a good night.

By day five, he was antsy, and his balls felt heavy and he was very aware of them, which was weird and off-putting, and his cock kept weeping pre-cum which made him feel embarrassed, and slutty. Leaving Clarke and Bellamy to make lunch, and he went into the bathroom and tried to finger himself to something resembling an orgasm.

Clarke, of course, caught him. They sat him down on the bed, the two of them towering over him, and Murphy felt guilty, and embarrassed for being caught. He couldn’t imagine how this could get worse. “Murphy, we’re disappointed.” 

That did a pretty good job of making it worse. “I’m sorry.”

Bellamy shook his head. “We get that. But part of this relationship is communication, and if you need something, you come to us. You don’t just try to get yourself off in the bathroom. That’s not how this works.”

“I’m sorry,” he said again.

Clarke nodded and reached forward to cup his cheek. “We know. And it’s okay. But your actions have consequences. So we have something that we’re going to add to your chastity today. And then, because we want to, we’re going to pretty you up and you can practice in your nice heels.” From behind her back she produced what appeared to be a metal buttplug, and Murphy frowned, waiting to see what the catch was.

She pushed up on the base and thing spread, bloomed open, much, much wider. Bellamy grinned at the outright horrified look on Murphy’s face and said, “It goes inside you, spreads wide, and then locks. Since it spreads so wide, you won’t be able to get it out until we unlock it, so no messing with your ass. And because it’s got a lock on the end, you’re not going to be able to sit, so until we take it out, you’re kneeling or standing or lying down, you understand?”

Murphy nodded, and Clarke made a little clucking noise. “You can safeword, and we won’t be upset. This is a big thing, and you can say no.”

Murphy shook his head. “I’m green. I’m not, like, excited for you to expand that giant thing up my ass, but like, it’s okay. It’s also really hot and is making my cock hurt like shit, so it’s all good.”

They made him take four of Bellamy’s long, thick fingers before they put the thing in him. It went in easy, not even as thick as half of things Clarke shoved into him, but when she pressed on the bottom and the petals spread slowly, opening him up like nothing before. He ached, whining and clutching at the comforter, but the metal thing spread relentless and then he heard the click of a lock and the thing was stuck inside him.

“How does it feel?” Bellamy asked, rubbing his hand affectionately on Murphy’s ass. He pulled at the base of the plug, but it was far too wide to come out on it’s own.

It felt like they owned him, like no part of him belonged to himself. He was stuffed and contained and locked up tight and theirs, completely. “Like you shoved a baseball bat up my ass.”

“Good,” Clarke said, smiling. “Now let’s pretty you up.” 

Standing was worse. The pressure on his insides was intense and it seemed baffling to him that he couldn’t see the outline through his stomach, because it felt impossibly massive and the ache just kept going.

Clarke did his makeup, painting his lips around a big ball gag, and pulling his hair back with a bow. Bellamy pulled a pair of lace panties up his legs—and he could tell the cage was visible through in—and put him in a silk slip, before locking the really terrible high heels on him again, for him to totter around in.

“Our pretty girl,” Bellamy said, looking him up and down as Clarke bound his hands together with thumb cuffs. “You look so beautiful, baby.”

Murphy’s face was hot and his hands were trembling where they were bound in front of him. He groaned loudly and a little bit of drool dripped out of the corner of his mouth.

“Messy girl,” Clarke admonished, wiping it off. “Murphy, baby, I need you to give me a thumbs up if this is okay?”

Because of the thumb cuffs, he had to give two thumbs up, which made Bellamy laugh, but it wasn’t like Murphy’s face could get any redder.

“Good,” Clarke cooed, reaching out to rub his caged cock. “You know, if we like this, there are ones we can get that go into your urethra—keep you open for us there, too. Or smaller ones, ones that will squish your cock down so you’ll be aware of it with every step. Your cock will shrink over time if we keep doing this, not like it’ll make much of a difference, though, right? Besides, when you’re as a pretty a girl as you are, sweetie, people only care about how hard a fucking you can take. No one cares the size of your clit.”

Murphy was going to die, and his cause of death would be Clarke-related aneurysm.

“Jesus Christ, Clarke.” Bellamy sounded a little hoarse and overwhelmed, too, so at least Murphy wouldn’t die alone. “Warn a guy.” He adjusted himself in his pants, the leaned forward and kissed Murphy around the gag. “God, you look so pretty, Murphy.”

Spending the rest of day being called pretty and a girl did nothing to ease his attempted erection, and by the time they took the plug out, he was so overwhelmed and wound tight that Clarke and Bellamy had needed to hold him for hours until he had calmed down.

By day eight he was verging on desperate, constantly aware of his cock and swollen balls. He suspected that he would have been less on edge if Bellamy and Clarke weren’t around all the time, existing and making him horny, and also love them. 

His girlfriend and boyfriend were devious, though, and so he should have known better than to trust Clarke when she came to him and said, “We’ve talked about it, and because you’ve been so good for us, we decided to give you a chance to cum today, if you want it.”

“Yes, absolutely. Yes, please. Yes, yes yes.” He hadn’t suspected the evil grin on Clarke’s face, because he was sort of an idiot. 

They tied his hands to the headboard, but otherwise left him free. Bellamy unlocked the cage and eased the sheath off him carefully, conscious of how sore Murphy was. Murphy’s dick grew hard almost immediately, which was a testament to how on edge he’d been the past week. Clarke pulled an unmarked bottle out of her pocket and waggled it at him.

“I’m going to put this on your cock, and then we’re going to make out for like, five minutes, and then you’re going to have another twenty to try and get off with Bellamy’s hand, okay?”

Murphy looked between her and the bottle for a long moment. Probably, it was something cruel, and painful, or degrading. She wouldn’t do anything to hurt him, but… “Yellow, wait,” he said, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath to calm himself. “I don’t—I don’t need to know all of your plans, but it is going to hurt? Will you just left me know if it’ll hurt?”

Bellamy kissed him on the mouth twice, then snapped gloves on himself. “It will not hurt.”

“It won’t be fun,” Clarke clarified. “And I sincerely doubt you’ll be able to get yourself off, but it won’t hurt.”

Murphy nodded. “Okay, yeah, go for it then.”

Clarke donned her own gloves, and squirted something white out of the tube and began rubbing it onto Murphy’s cock. It was cold on contact and he shivered, but she continued rubbing onto him, especially on the head of his cock, and once or twice dipping inside it. The cold began to fade after a few minutes, and Clarke and Bellamy distracted him with kisses.

He felt sort of funny, but not in a way that he could easily describe? It was possible, he thought, that he had just forgotten what having a hard-on felt like.

“Okay,” Clarke said after an indeterminate amount of time. “You always like Bellamy’s hands on you, right?”

Murphy rolled his eyes. “Yes, Clarke.”

Bellamy grinned. “Happy to oblige.” He wrapped his fingers around Murphy’s dick, which was still hard, and Murphy watched him do it, but he couldn’t really feel it.

Oh, fuck, he couldn’t feel it!

Something must have shown on his face because Clarke was laughing. He couldn’t take his eyes off Bellamy’s hand, moving rhythmically on his cock, even though at most it felt like vague pressure. “Lidocaine,” she said. “Should be numb for the next twenty minutes or so. After that, we’ll lock you up again.”

“I like zero things about you,” Murphy replied, and Bellamy started cackling.

The next twenty minutes passed in a haze of acute frustration of watching Bellamy stroke his cock, his free cock, and being no closer to cumming than he was in the cage. After twenty minutes was up they let him get soft and then locked him back up. He was locked back in the pink plastic cage, and although he was desperate to cum, he was sort of glad that he hadn’t. It would have felt like cheating, and he didn’t want to cheat (for once).

Clarke untied his hands and made sure his circulation was still good. “How was that, Murphy?” Bellamy stripped off his gloves and threw them in general direction of the garbage can, but knowing him, he probably missed by a long shot.

They crowded around him, sandwiching him between them. He didn’t really reach subspace, so he wasn’t sure he was in active need of any pointed cuddling, but he wasn’t about to say no them. “It was good. But like, I’m glad I didn’t cum, honestly? I got two days left, right?”

Bellamy grinned. “Right. You’re so good for us, Murphy.”

“The best,” Clarke agreed. “We love you.”

“We do,” Bellamy affirmed.

Murphy rolled his eyes. “Whatever. You, too.” And he did, a lot. He was going to be so fucking good for them.

Just two days. He could wait two more days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> that was it! i am gabe racetrackthehiggins, feel free to come talk to me or prompt me or commission me or give me money ilu

**Author's Note:**

> hello my name is gabe racetrackthehiggins and i need a nap or some [kofi](https://ko-fi.com/A0113A9L)


End file.
